


together, after all

by dreamofspring



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Lack of Communication, M/M, Momo's POV, Momo's insecurities, Momo's loneliness, OC cameo as plot device, Re:member spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 19:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17814104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofspring/pseuds/dreamofspring
Summary: Momo has always felt more lonely than anyone around him suspected - but he was never as lonely as he thought he was.





	together, after all

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: includes EXTENSIVE spoilers to the Re:member novel, not only to Momo's chapters, as well as possible spoilers for any part of the main story and/or Rabichas that touch upon Re:vale's past, but also my own interpretation of some ambiguous events.

Glancing in both directions to check if no one else is in the back, Momo leans heavily against the lockers and lets his eyes fall closed. _Only for a moment,_ he sighs inwardly; in a few seconds, he will stand up straight, fix his hair and make himself look fresh and ready for the rest of the shift. Just a few seconds - A minute, maybe... The breaks are so short, and the store lamps so bright… Sand grits under Momo’s eyelids, his leaden arms falling limply to the sides. Though complaints form at his lips, Momo forces himself to swallow every sigh and lift the corners of his mouth up in a smile. _I won’t say I can’t do it. I won’t say I can’t go on._ Even promising, competitive teams would fall apart once the members lost their spirit and there was no one to pull them forward. Hasn’t that always been his job, as the captain? Momo might be alone here, in this dingy employee break room, but… Isn’t he the one-person delegation representing team Re:vale, right now? Even if it’s not really like that - at best, Momo would be someone brought in from reserve, desperately trying to fill in Ban-san’s shoes - he still got to keep his head up. Momo  momentarily curls his hands into fists, as if bracing himself; he exhales and nods curtly.

Out of habit, Momo reaches for his phone, his fingers moving on their own to open to contact list. When he realizes what he’s doing, he’s already scrolling through, looking for someone to message at random. He freezes mid-motion.

“Whoops… Forgot myself here -”

Momo tries to cover his embarrassment with an awkward laugh; his eyes dart up, scanning the break room, but just as before, no one is there.

“Stupid, who’d know?” he chastises himself, “What’s wrong about checking your own phone?” _If anything, talking to yourself is going to raise more eyebrows._

He’s about to stuff his phone back into his pocket when his eyes are drawn to one of the names on the list; one of the two that have occupied his thoughts non stop, lurking at the back of his head.

Ogami Banri.

Momo’s stomach lurches. Trying to avert his eyes only leaves him staring at the names above and below. Faces spring up before his eyes, one by one; the guy whose locker was next to his for soccer practice; a stern looking girl who went to the same club as neechan, would always be there when Momo picked Ruri up - when she spoke up, Momo was shocked how gentle her voice was; Momo’s old classmates from different years-  

A sudden anxiety strikes him; was all of this information still accurate? It hasn’t been that long, has it? But there he was, already 20 years old. Some of neechan’s friends did have boyfriends; it wouldn’t be anything strange for them to get married. He tries to pull up the list of calls, but hits the wrong icon, first time, his fingers shaking. The _today_ , two _yesterdays_ , the calls three days and a week ago, are all one name. Although he already knows what he’s going to see, his heart still sinks when he gets to the first _Sunohara_ \- a month and a few days, a red icon saying, _unreceived_. Scrolling further down, he finds names he would call out all the time on the soccer field, names he knew since he was a child - two months ago, three, four, disappearing one by one. Were all of those numbers still in service? He has no way of knowing, it hits him; but even if he did… What then?

Forget finding something to talk about, or even the courage to speak. When a minute passes and Momo’s racing heartbeat winds down, his mouth twists into a lopsided smile. He can’t even press the button.

Quickly, quickly, he scrolls back up to the top of the list. He considering calling Yuki-san, just to hear his voice - would he mumble something, distracted at being pulled away from his songwriting, or would he call out Momo’s name? -

but decides against it, not confident if he’d sound normal. The last answer he’d want was a worry-filled “What’s wrong?”

Instead, Momo closes his eyes again and imagines a somewhat clumsy, but warm smile, a gentle voice, tinted with admiration. _“You’re amazing, Momo.”_

Just as if he was a flower bathing in sunlight, strength immediately fills his body. He pushes off the locker and stretches his aching back. Just a bit more. If he works hard enough, maybe he will get to hear it for real, once Yuki-san welcomes him home.

The further into his workday, the more kindly he thinks of their shared apartment. Cramped and run down, with a dark history, it’s not the kind of place a delicate artist like Yuki-san should be living in, and that is on Momo, but… When he comes back, the lights will be on and Yuki will greet him once Momo is at the door. There will be another futon laid out next to his once they finally crash for the night. A while ago, he wouldn’t have even thought to notice these things.

However, as he thinks of home, it doesn’t take long for guilt to start seeping in. The vision of a smiling face is replaced by an image of lost, sunken eyes looking up from a table strewn with crumpled and balled up paper. Momo’s heart tightens painfully in his chest. What was he even thinking, when it’s Yuki-san who needs comfort the most?

His short break comes to a close. Momo rushes back into the store, a perfect service smile stuck to his face.

 

Tension only drains from his shoulders when he steps out of the well-lit, air-conditioned store into the darkened street, having passed the baton to the next overworked, sleep-deprived temp. The heat and humidity hit him in the face like a slap with a wet towel, drawing out a groan. The bgm from the store plays on loop in his head, the playlist too short to not grate on the nerves if you stay inside longer than just to do your shopping. Hits that has to be as old as his parents can be heard from the old-style karaoke clubs in drunken song, adding to the noise in Momo’s head. All too familiar tingling at his temples signals an oncoming headache. If only he could listen to music composed by Yuki-san, instead… Momo tries to hum a melody he’s overheard from his… His? Momo trails off, unable to say “partner” in confidence, even in his own thoughts. But Yuki-san would often hum to himself like this, sometimes songs Momo recognized from Re:vale’s lives, sometimes ones he didn’t know - composing, maybe? From behind Yuki’s drawn eyebrows and quiet, focused eyes, through his delicate fingers, melodies would flowed onto paper as if by magic. Momo wouldn’t even know how to start; he can barely repeat the song from memory, but even imperfect, the tune soothes his nerves.

“Momo-kun.”

Deep in thought, his head hung low in exhaustion, Momo doesn’t notice someone is in front of him until a pair of legs suddenly appears in his field of vision. Momo’s heart skips a beat at the sound of his name, spoken so warmly and without honorifics. He tries to avoid colliding with the man, but as if someone tied his shoelaces together, he stumbles forward.

“Y-Yuki-saa---n?!”

“Oof. Are you ok, Momo-kun?”   

Yuki is pushed back a little by Momo’s weight, but still catches him securely around the shoulders. Under Momo’s ear thumps a fast heartbeat that doesn’t match Yuki’s calm tone. Was he that startled? Or maybe… Excited? No, what could the reason even be...  Looking up, Momo is greeted by a smile; more worn out than he imagined, but still, a real smile, reserved only for him. His own heart begins to race. The endless workday he couldn’t quite leave behind turns into a distant memory.

A pleasantly cool palm touches Momo’s back again, sending an electric current through his spine.

“Does your back hurt, Momo?” Yuki-san asks, his voice soft, but his eyebrows furrowed. “They make you do a lot of lifting, don’t they?”

Completely oblivious to the fireworks going off under Momo’s skin, Yuki-san strokes his collarbone; belatedly, Momo realizes just how badly he’s been sloughing. And he let Yuki-san see him like this… He quickly straightens his back, wincing at the audible creak. How old was he, 20 or 80?

“It’s fine!” He still assures, flexing a few times to demonstrate. “I was just distracted, and got all sloppy, that’s all! But that’s no good, idols need to have a good posture, right! Thank you for correcting me! But… I made you scold me again….”

Yuki’s shoulders droop slightly. His hand falls away from Momo’s shoulder and to his side. Momo misses the sensation of his touch as soon as it’s gone.

“By the way, Yuki-san?” _No good, better change the subject..._ “Why did you come all the way out to the store? Did something happen at home, or… “Momo trails off, wringing his hands behind his back, “I know! You must have wanted to get some fresh air, to clear your head while you’re composing!”

To Momo’s distress, the earlier smile drains from Yuki’s face. He can hardly resist the urge to slap himself. Just a mention of the looming deadline was enough to make Yuki tense up all over, with that lifeless, lost look in his eyes - but this, this isn’t it, yet. Yuki is just staring intently, his eyebrows slightly drawn.

“I thought your work would be over,” is all he says; a flat, even statement, at least to Momo’s ears.

“E-eh?”

“So I came here,” Yuki adds, sounding more impatient, or maybe, petulant? Under his expectant stare, Momo’s thoughts jumble up; he feels as if he forgot to put two and two together. It couldn’t be that…

“Yuki-san… You wanted to see me…?”

Yuki gives a small, but decisive nod. His face lights up again, with a faintest little blush coloring his cheeks. Momo experiences a malfunction; he wants to climb onto the roof of the nearest building and and scream that Yuki-san is the most adorable person in the world, hug him as tight as he can to hear the sound of his heartbeat again, and run and hide so he wouldn’t blurt out anything Yuki-san doesn’t need to know, all at the same time. He ends up doing none of those things; he doesn’t even move from the spot. When he tries to say something; thank Yuki-san for coming, put any of the emotions surging through him into words, Momo finds himself all choked up.

He didn’t have to drag himself all the way back through empty streets on his own, feeling like he would never reach home. He could see a familiar face, hear a familiar voice, a bit earlier... and now, he has Yuki-san circling him awkwardly, in comical concentration, like a fighter in the ring. What even… Is he trying to figure out how to swipe Momo’s bag?

“Yuki-san?” The corners of Momo’s mouth twitch up. “What are you doing?”

“Give me that. You’re tired.”

“Who, me?” Momo laughs; his heart is so warm he doesn’t even have to force himself to smile. “I could give you a piggyback ride home! You’re so sweet to worry, Yuki-san! The perfect man! An ikemen to end all ikemen!”

“If I’m so great, let me carry it.”

“I couldn’t possibly!”

Arguing back and forth, the way home is so much shorter. The fridge is even emptier, and the heater refuses to turn on, but as they huddle close, Momo smiles from the heart.

 

* * *

 

 

“Momo-kun, is it working properly?”

Momo meets the eyes of Re:vale’s manager in the rear-view mirror. “Okarin, what did you-?”

“You were frowning at your phone quite hard. I don’t like to admit it, but we are relying on you quite a lot. It’s important that you can communicate effectively on the job…”

“It’s a-okay! Sorry to bother you to fix this old thing, but the budget… And this is all I need to make calls and text! I was just reorganizing my contacts!”

His screen shows a few newly made lists, one still unnamed. Momo has just finished sorting through the contact info from Ban-san’s notebook; now, to add the people he’s managed to make connections with himself, according to their craft, so he could easily look through everything on the go, and…

Do something about the names he hadn’t heard from in forever. Rather than any attachment to the old model, or even the concern for money, as he claimed without batting an eyelid.  it was the thought of having to move them to a new device, or - leave them behind - that made Momo insist on a repair.

“I cannot let you boys worry about our expenses like this much longer. Yuki-kun seems to be planning my demise each time I mention your pay.”

Momo gulps, gripping his phone tighter. That particular argument is not one he wants to relive just before work.

“...P-please forgive him….! He must have just been getting in character! He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I head over to his location,” Okarin sighs. “Thank you for taking on another solo offer. It is a huge help to us, and it means the host must have great expectations for you. I would love to stay, but I need to pay respects to the director… It’s a crucial time.”

As soon as the car pulls up to the studio, Momo is ready to go. His gears are turning faster, switching to the work mode; observe, react. Make the most use of every opportunity to get Re:vale’s name out there.

“No problem! Please look after Yuki-san for me, will you?”

 

“Excuse me… Momo-san, correct? Momo-san from Re:vale?”

Momo spins around to find a young girl in an elegant uniform with a beret, long hair and straight black bangs arranged as neatly and carefully as if they were glued to her forehead. Casting fearful glances all around the studio, the girl is a textbook example of a variety show newbie. Momo quickly places her as an idol who made her first appearance on the previous episode. Back then, two friends flanked her; now, she is alone. _Uh-oh,_ not a big hit last time, were they? No wonder, he recalls; had it not been for Momo pulling the girl into the conversation, the group would have been swallowed up completely with nothing to show in the final cut.

“That’s the one! Yumika-chan, wasn’t it?” Reviewing the edited episode after it aired, he spotted the girl’s name tag; just the first name in katakana, the same way his was being written now. Must be a pseudonym. “Good work being invited back!”

The girl’s eyes widen. “You remembered! I wanted to thank you for help last time, Momo-san… The company pushed for me to come back, since I am the center, but if it wasn’t for you, even that could have been difficult…”

Momo snaps to attention at the remark; Yumika doesn’t seem to notice anything, neither the change in his attitude, nor that she has let something significant slip.

“The other members are going to promote in magazines, but I was sent here alone… I feared I wouldn’t see a single familiar face!”

If the agency managed to get this girl back on a renowned show despite the poor showing, it must have more power and money than Momo previously thought. He judged the group to be novelty guests, invited one-off based on a good response to their debut, but if the agency could follow through… Would there be any benefit in having a connection with them? Female idols were a different field, but a newbie group alone wouldn’t have put the agency in a position to negotiate, they must have other ventures -

Out of the corner of his eye, over the girl’s shoulder, Momo spots a staff member watching the two of them - watching a bit too carefully, without any obvious work to take care of in the area. His blood turns to ice, plans of researching the group forgotten. He has to get away from here, as naturally as possible, but quick.

“I’m sorry, Yumika-san, I need to say my greetings to the host, and consult the script, too! I look forward to working with you! If you excuse me…”

He tries to stop here and there, making small talk with the staff he recognizes from the last time and greeting the regulars; _don’t look suspicious, don’t look like you’ve just been caught doing something you shouldn’t._

When he throws a last glance at the backstage, the young idol is still standing where she was, until someone ushers her towards the guest seats. Momo focuses on following the flow of the program, giving even more attention to the regulars than usual. By the time they reach the first break, he manages to push the girl’s lost expression out of his thoughts. It’s almost too easy.

 

By the time he slowly pushes the door to their apartment open, careful of the squeaking hinges, Yuki-san is nodding off at the table. He’s supporting his chin on a hand, swaying in his sleep; next to him is an open script and two untouched plates, covered in plastic foil.

“Yuki-san?” Momo calls out softly, “Your neck is going to hurt… Yuki-san, you should go to bed, at least. And you haven’t eaten, either? Were you waiting for me? There was no need… But since you’re handsome, I’ll forgive you.”

“Mm-mo?”

Yuki’s voice, warm and scratchy from sleep, tugs at Momo’s heartstrings. When Momo shakes his shoulders, Yuki clings to him like to an oversized pillow or a teddy bear.

“It’s me. Yuki-san, I’ll reheat your dinner -”

“Nn… You eat, Momo. ‘S for you.”

“There are two plates, though?”

“For you,” Yuki insists. “Sleepy…”

“Me too,” Momo laughs, making another attempt to haul Yuki up to his feet. It’s not entirely true; the drinking party he couldn’t get out of after the shoot left him queasy, though Momo isn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the food. “Let’s get an early start and eat this together for breakfast? Less time to prepare, too.”

“Mhm…”

A proposal to wake up earlier would never go through without a fight. Momo couldn’t ask for better proof that Yuki was completely asleep.

Momo’s head is swimming a bit, and the limp body in his arms feels twice as heavy, but somehow, he manages to get Yuki into his futon. “Here’s your beloved blanket,” Momo whispers, covering Yuki’s shoulders with the worn fabric. Unexpectedly, Yuki moves in his sleep, but only to turn to his side, facing Momo’s futon.

Mesmerized by the slumbering face of his partner, Momo can’t bring himself to turn his back. Despite the faint shadows under his eyes and his white hair messy and overgrown, Yuki’s delicate, harmonious features make him a sight out of a beautiful painting. Even more than innocent or peaceful, like the cliche goes, Yuki in his sleep is a picture of vulnerability. The way his fingers curl into the blanket, every soft breath, stir Momo’s protective instincts. Momo is supposed to be his shield, but what good will it do if he becomes everything he needs to keep Yuki from?

“Yuki-san… Yuki-san, I did something awful today.”

Not a single muscle in Yuki’s face twitches. Momo exhales in relief, but the pressure in his chest doesn’t really ease.

“That kid… She looked a bit like neechan, though… not really, I guess. Maybe I just..” Momo trails off; if he voiced it, it would become more real, unbearable. “In the past, you know? I’d always talk with neechan’s friends like normal, no matter what the other guys said. The girls were smart and funny, so it was their loss… I forgot where I was, for a moment. But that’s not true either, huh?” he laughs humorlessly, curling up in a ball. “It’s just an excuse.”

Remembering how cold and detached his view of the other idol’s performance was - a newbie just like himself, a lone girl that could be his sister - how the moment she spoke to him, Momo started to calculate how to use the connection, Momo feels another wave of nausea.

“It’d be dangerous to that group too,” he tries to convince himself in a shaky whisper, “Even more than for us. That tech guy could have been a tabloid plant - even if he wasn’t, he could’ve spilled. It was for the best of both sides. There was nothing else I could do.”

Momo reaches out for Yuki’s hand, resting close in front of his face. He doesn’t dare to hold it, just brushes his fingers against the smooth skin.

“We can’t let any rumors or scandals happen, either. I’ll protect you… I’ll definitely protect you, but be careful too, okay? Yuki-san?”

Yuki’s arm moves. Momo freezes up, waiting for Yuki to open his eyes and shove him away - but to his shock, Yuki reaches around him and pulls Momo close, tucking Momo under his chin. Warmth envelops Momo; Yuki’s steady heartbeat is in his ears, Yuki’s smell all around him. Tears well up in Momo’s eyes and begin to run down, soaking into Yuki’s shirt, before Momo can stop them.

“Yuki-san… You’re asleep, right?”

Only when a few seconds pass without confirmation does Momo hug back, clinging way harder than he means to. As much as he tries to fight it, the sense of safety he doesn’t deserve lulls him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Okarin isn’t at fault. That much Momo can admit; he’s fair enough to do that, at least.

From the agency’s point of view, it was a favor. When Ban-san’s lease ran out, and Momo’s… circumstances left Momo looking for a place to stay as well, they could not afford to be picky. Their apartment was not just a stigmatized property; the first time the two of them had tried to find the nearest conbini, they almost got lost, and the station wasn’t any closer. Yuki and Momo would lose a ton of time getting to and back from jobs, shaving off hours of sleep just to make it to their schedules. While Momo tried to think of it as a chance to relive his early morning practices, but he could tell Yuki suffered, as much as he did his best to not complain. The new apartments weren’t just closer to the city centre; they were more befitting of Re:vale’s status as more and more established stars.

“You’re at the level when you may be asked about your private lives in interviews or during TV appearances… Recently, Yuki-kun received a request for a photoshoot at home - earlier than we anticipated, which is a testament to the acclaim he gained with his latest activities - but which, sadly, we had to turn down,” Okarin confessed in their last meeting, hanging his head down; from his spot on couch next to Momo, Yuki gave him a look that said, _“How am I only hearing about this now?”,_ crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Of course, I do not mean that you, or we, as the agency have anything to be ashamed of! Re:vale’s resilience and brilliant success despite your humble beginnings is a point of pride! But… it was keeping me up at night that we couldn’t provide you adequate comfort. With your schedules getting more and more packed, each of you deserves a place where you can rest.”

When their manager put it that way, how could Momo refuse?

Momo smiled and nodded, hoping that the other two wouldn’t notice it’s a far cry from his usual cheer. He saw Okarin’s point, he really did; wasn’t it one of Momo’s goals, to let Yuki-san write his songs in a spacious, comfortable room, without a worry in the world? It’s just that...

The details like the time of day or the season, would change; Momo would furnish the inside differently, not sure what style Yuki would like best, but no matter if it was sharing breakfast as morning light shone in Yuki’s hair, or stretching out his tired limbs after work, listening to Yuki play the guitar, no matter if they lounged around in t-shirts or cuddled up in sweaters, warm drinks in hand, each time Momo imagined where Yuki would live, Momo was there, too. He would always place himself somewhere in the background, without realizing. Was it because Yuki said he was happy Momo was there? Was it that summer afternoon, when along with Yuki, the whole world seemed to smile at him, when Yuki proudly declared they’re on a date to a stranger and it felt like they could just go on like this…

Momo gathered his courage to steal another glance in Yuki’s direction; it was Okarin, who proposed the move, after all, not Yuki. It didn’t have to mean anything. And there was Yuki-san, with his arms still crossed, wearing a complicated expression that Momo couldn’t quite read - but not a happy one, at least.

“Can we talk about this later?” Yuki had asked, “I need to be on location soon…”

As if on reflex, hearing the uncertainty in his voice, jumped to reassure him,

“It will be okay! Once my recording wraps up, I’ll come to get you, alright?”

But there are technical difficulties, and by the time Momo is done for the day, Yuki is passing him by at the door to the agency. He looks so small and lost Momo immediately launches into a re-telling of a story held on set, complete with improvised voices for each character. He jumps from topic to topic, hanging off Yuki’s arm - physical contact worked on that cuddlebug just as well as words - until the sound of Yuki’s laugh soothes his own fears. Once again, Momo hears himself speak almost in favor of the move, but they don’t talk, not really.

The next day, Momo comes home to find Yuki looking through photos of Ban-san. Suffice to say, they don’t talk either.

The third day… When Okarin asks about the third day, he finds out just how persistent Momo can be when he doesn’t want to discuss something.

The move goes on smoother than expected; with their schedules packed to bursting, they pass each other by, seeing only the other’s belongings gradually disappear from their shared space. Before Momo realizes it, he’s standing at the entrance to the studio apartment that would be his home, sports bag on his shoulder. Under his arm there’s a soccer ball and a rolled-up poster; Momo places them down first. Facing the black wall, he wonders, “If I fill it up, will I come to like it here more?”

He doesn’t have much, but without Yuki around to keep him in check, his things soon end up all over the floor. Clothes stay where he drops them changing until he trips over something and attacks the mess with all of his pent-up frustration. The order never lasts long.

When he opens the door, the light is always off. There is no one to welcome him home after work, and no one he could wait at home for, so naturally, he starts coming back even later. The drinking invitations and networking parties give his night shifts from before a run for their money.

Momo’s contact list is filled to bursting, his phone almost never quiet; it’s as if it has grown into his palm. He no longer has to plan his every word; it’s second nature, what tone to use with whom, how much time, which topics are appropriate. He weaves his ideas into conversation seamlessly, pushing the with such grace the other person hardly realizes they’re being made to do something for Re:vale’s sake and dodges as many inconveniences as possible. Yet, even though there’s always someone looking to consult with him, ask or call in a favor, there is no one he wants to talk to about his new apartment - no one he’d want to bring over. Except...

It’s halfway through the second week when Momo decides he can’t avoid Yuki any longer, not if he doesn’t want it to look unnatural. Like clockwork, his phone buzzes, bringing an invitation to Yuki’s new place. Were they thinking the same thing? The corners of Momo’s mouth quirk up. The bitterness of the last few days drains away; the thought of seeing Yuki’s face fills him only with longing. He hurries to write back; almost as soon as he presses send, the phone rings, Yuki calling to confirm. He speaks awkward and fast, tripping over his words in relief, and Momo’s heart nearly beats out of his chest.

 

When Yuki opens the door for him and steps aside, all Momo can manage is, Oh. Oh no.

It’s no good. He loves it here.

The apartment is mostly white, but not at all cold despite the artificial light. It feels airy and fresh, even more so with splashes of green from plants that take up almost every surface; from how well they’re growing, Momo guesses that during daytime, the place has to be full of sunlight. As he looks around, warmth and a sense of calm seep into his body. He would have never imagined it exactly like this, but it’s almost as if… Like looking inside Yuki’s mind. He could live here. He could stay here forever.

“Do you like it?” Yuki asks, hopeful. Momo can only nod, but just that earns him the sweetest smile. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to cook something.”

It’s only then that Momo notices the bag of groceries on the counter. It’s not as if he had just made it home, so, if he hadn’t put them away up till now…

“You don’t have to, Yuki-san…”

“I haven’t eaten yet, either. It’s no trouble.”

“...No fair! You did that on purpose!”

“Hm?” Yuki smiles again, evidently proud of himself, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Momo.”

“If you said you wanted to treat me, I’d have pitched in with something…”

“If I told you, you’d find an excuse to not show up,” Yuki replies bluntly, ducking under the counter; he reappears soon after, checking another drawer, his eyebrows drawn slightly in confusion. _He’s not used to where everything is, yet_ , Momo realizes. There’s probably nothing to find cute about that, it’s just a normal thing, and yet, watching Yuki move around the kitchen with a slight air of doubt, as if expecting to be pranked, Momo quietly melts. It makes no sense, he knows, but does it make sense for Yuki-san to be so adorable when he can’t find the right utensils? Or a pot, or whatever? Who’s really at fault here, huh?

“That’s…”

“I can cook for my partner sometimes, can’t I? We’ve been doing well lately. Let me treat you.”

Momo has nothing to say to that, really.

By the time the food is giving off a mouth-watering smell, and Yuki is humming happily as he makes the finishing  touches, he can’t hold it in anymore. He pads over and leans his forehead against the back of Yuki’s neck.

“Hey… I’m sorry. Yuki-san… I don’t know what came over me.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath before Yuki relaxes again.

“Me too.”

“Yuki-sa-” Momo starts, but at the same time, Yuki calls out,

“Momo-”

Awkward silence falls.

“You first-”

“What did you-”

This time, they have to laugh. Momo presses his face between Yuki’s shoulder blades, trying to stifle his giggles. He’s really tempted to wrap his arms around Yuki’s waist and squeeze.

“I’m glad you came, Momo.”

“...Me too.”

 

Momo is so nervous he drops sauce onto his shirt - but instead of chiding him, Yuki blushes lightly and averts his eyes, mumbling something about how he _thinks_ he saw one of Momo’s T-shirts among his; must’ve gotten mixed in with his stuff during the move, he says. No, Momo doesn’t have to take the dirty shirt home, Yuki hasn’t done laundry yet...

Momo perches on the floor and watches their clothes spin together in the washing machine, and doesn’t mind when Yuki calls him strange. He makes it sound so warm, after all.

 

The first time he ends up pretending to sleep in Yuki’s bed, and Yuki doesn’t try to wake or move him, Momo feels as if he pulled off a successful heist. When it happens again and again, it starts to feel like he’s just…

Allowed.

 

* * *

 

Their 5th anniversary comes and goes, but nothing ends.

 

“Momo, look. They’re showing the Zero Arena highlights on this channel, too.”

“ _Still?!”_ Momo nearly drops the plate he’s drying. He dives to the floor to catch it, only to try to put the disposable towel on the shelf and the plate into the trash. Sighing deeply, he rubs at his temples. “Don’t they have any new material?”

The last few days had been a constant stream of afterparties, interviews and TV appearances, dashing from place to place with Okarin at their heels. His “Dash, Momo-kun, dash!” still echoes in Momo’s ears; it feels wrong to not be going somewhere, as if there was something scheduled for tonight, too, that Momo simply forgot. The alarmed glances Yuki has been sending him through the evening seem to suggest he feels the same.

To Momo’s surprise, rather than seeking alone time, Yuki had invited him over the moment Okarin confirmed a break in their schedule. Taking Momo’s hand into his, with a soft, weary smile, he asked,“Let’s spend some time with just the two of us” - and just like that, the idea of giving each other space evaporated from Momo’s head.

It had taken all of their professionalism and self-control gained after years of staying at the top of the idol industry to not just collapse onto the couch in a heap the moment they were home. Even then, Momo had to remind Yuki to actually turn on the stove, while Yuki caught Momo’s wrist just before he poured his drink over the meal instead of into the glass.

“It’s edited differently, but I think the clips are the same… The sound quality,” Yuki makes a vague gesture with the remote, “It matches.”

“I’m amazed you can tell! That’s my Darling for you! But wait, same…?!”

Momo hurriedly puts down the last glass. “Yuki, why don’t you gimme that for a sec? We can look for something else… There should be a movie, or a match…”

“Why?” Yuki moves the remote out of his reach. “I wanted to hear how they comment on it later.”

“Why can’t you just...!” Momo reaches farther, making another attempt to fish the remote out of Yuki’s fingers, “They’re going to show that part again, don’t- Aaah!”

In his tiredness, Momo loses his balance, falling forward, head-first over the back of the couch. Yuki catches him at just the right moment, pulling Momo into his lap.

“That was close.”

But that is when the dreaded clip shows up on screen. With a long suffering sigh, Momo buries his face in Yuki’s shirt.

“Momo?” Yuki asks, ruffling his hair, “What’s wrong?”

The worry in his voice causes a prickle of guilt; ever since the incident backstage, Yuki has been watching him so closely, careful to not to miss anything that might be worrying him, and here Momo was, freaking out over something so small…

“It’s nothing, really -”

“Momo.”

Momo hesitates, trailing his finger over Yuki’s chest. Yuki chuckles softly.

“Honey, that tickles."

“...They caught it on tape,” Momo mumbles, “When I teared up on stage..."

“That’s it? I didn’t even notice… But, isn’t it fine? Since your crying face is so cute, Momo. You’ve always been a crybaby, too.”

“Only you know that!” Momo protests, pushing himself up to fix Yuki with a glare; he falters when Yuki shows him a proud, happy smile in response, as if bragging, _That’s right, it’s just me!_

“I didn’t want them to see me like that… After you were so cool backstage, too!”

“Momo, please… I don’t think I’ve been more embarrassed in my whole life…”

“It _was_ cool!” Momo insists, “I was super, suuper happy, I thought I was dreaming!”

“You were cool, too.”

“Eeh…?”

“Look.”

Yuki points at the screen. The program is showing the two of them performing one of their old hits, Momo’s face radiant as he sings with all his might.

“Standing next to you, I thought, it couldn’t be anyone else… Not that I didn’t think that before!” Yuki adds hurriedly, heating up in embarrassment. “I… These songs wouldn’t be complete without your voice. They were written to match you. If I could write songs you’d have fun singing… Watching you sing so happily, I thought I haven’t done it all wrong. I wanted to call out, look who’s standing next to me!...”

“Yuki…”

“I just said all that out loud, didn’t I…”

“Ikemen overload… Can’t… I’m going to die…”

Neither of them registers what show starts next. They can’t quite look each other in the eye, but after a while, Yuki starts playing with Momo’s hair again. At some point, without realizing, Momo has sneaked his arms around Yuki’s chest. Something bright and warm slowly fills him up from within, like a wave.

“I wanna tell someone…”

“Hm?”

“Oh, I just - I was thinking, I wanted to tell someone about the last few days - but you know, and Ban-san knows, IDOLiSH7 and Trigger kids were there - Our fans too, and they watch the TV, so there’s nothing left to say…”

“Why don’t you call your sister?”

Momo stares, stunned. He has almost forgotten - he can do that now. At first, it was just texts, clipped and awkward, but now, Ruri’s name showed up a few times in his call history - maybe this time, the could talk longer.

It was all thanks to Yuki. If he hadn’t gone to seek her out… Tears well up in Momo’s eyes.

“Yuki-san, I… You’ve given me so much…”

“The same goes for you. We’re partners, after all.”

Momo smiles, his sight all blurry. “...We are!”

 


End file.
